It's Not Love
by Wings of a Wolf
Summary: Neji remembers some of the times he spent with Gaara. Not too badly OOC, but so fluffy you could drown. Fluff should be a genre, I swear. Neji x Gaara.


_This is sort of a tribute to Gaara, and it's TWT. Gaara reminds me of Farfarello of Weiß Kreuz, and Farfie is my favorite (besides Schu) from that anime, so I've had to deal with squealing issues every time Gaara comes on screen. The way I decided the pairing is this: Okay, who's the hottest guy besides Gaara on the show? Well, Sasuke or Naruto would be good with him, but I like them together. Cue hentai thoughts. Um... what about that jerk (but freaking HOT!) Hyuga guy? Neji. ...that pairing actually makes sense! Neji/Gaara. I'll do it! Or rather, they will. Hehehe. Anyway, read on._

--

**It's Not Love**

Gaara's skin was always hot. It was coarse and dry to the touch, no hint of sweat marring the feel of it. Gaara was the dry heat of the desert at high noon, when the sun cast shadows on everything and makes everyone feel tired and weary. Neji knew what it felt like to touch that skin. He would run his hand down Gaara's back, feel the ridges of the spine underneath the skin. He loved to touch Gaara, to press his lips to Gaara's and feel the almost shy flick of the demon-boy's tongue.

Because Gaara _was_ shy. He hesitated sometimes before doing anything with another person that didn't involve sand crunching flesh and bone. He was reserved. He believed that friends were a weakness; Gaara would probably never call Neji his friend. That was fine. Neji didn't particularly feel like calling Gaara his friend either.

Gaara and he were just a little bit alike, that was all.

Once you managed to see past the splatters of blood that Gaara left wherever he went, Gaara was beautiful. Anyone could see it if they bothered looking. His hair was as red as the sun over the desert at twilight, pooling like blood over the golden sands. His eyes were that icy green color, frightening and cold, but always burning with such power that looking in his eyes was almost dizzying. A single look from him could inspire fear.

Gaara was so stupid. He thought that all the love that he had was tattooed on his face. Neji knew that wasn't true, but he wasn't about to get in Gaara's way. That was one thing. The people that loved Gaara were also terrified of him, but that was both Gaara's fault and the fault of the sand demon.

Neji could remember the imprint of Gaara's cheek on his hand when he had cupped it gently in his hand. He could remember the shock in Gaara's eyes when he had leaned down to kiss him, the feel of those lips so soft against his own and just slightly damp from where Gaara had licked them moments before. The surprise had stiffened the red-head's muscles so that he didn't even have time to push Neji away. By the time thought had returned, he hadn't wanted to.

There had been a time, sitting by the river sometime after when they'd had sex the first few times and they were still a bit off. Gaara had been sectioned off from everyone else, as usual. The night wind had been ruffling Gaara's hair. He made the perfect picture, knees held to his chest tightly and his chin resting on them as he looked out over the water.

He had been surprised when Neji had sat next to him; just slightly, but when someone who showed so little emotion other than rage showed something like that, you knew instantly. Neji had smirked at him. He hadn't said anything.

Neji had known that not saying anything would make Gaara nervous. Gaara was always just wondering where the blow would come from. He wondered when Gaara realized that he wasn't going to hurt him. Well, not unless he deserved it, of course.

Gaara had struggled with it for a moment before deciding that the best thing to do would be to completely ignore him, turning back to face the water. The moonlight that glanced over the water shifted against his face, turning him into a creature of night and beauty.

Neji had looked away too. It was peaceful here, a miracle because you couldn't hear the others. Naruto was _loud_. It was too tense, though. Gaara's nervousness laced the air and made it so heavy that it practically froze Neji where he sat. No relaxing was going to be gotten this way. Gaara would, of course, never say a word about how or why he felt like that.

"You're such an idiot," were the words Neji chose to break the silence with, pulling the Sand ninja against him. Gaara blinked, toppling over into Neji's arms with the sudden motion.

The words sank in and he scowled. "Jerk."

But he didn't move, so it was fine.

--

Having sex with Gaara was like mating with a volcano. It was painful and you invariably ended up burned, but it felt _so good_. It stripped away all pain and fear and doubt until all that was left was to feel and to touch. All Neji could focus on was Gaara. The feel of Gaara's body, the taste of his skin, the look in Gaara's eyes just when he...

It always felt amazing. More than amazing. It felt like dying and being reborn every single time. The first time had been difficult to get to. In fact, it had been damn near impossible to get Gaara into that situation. Once there, though...

Gaara's touch felt like fire. Gaara's kiss felt like dying. Gaara's body felt like pain. Everything about Gaara was painful. Fucking Gaara was like falling into the sun.

After a few months of being with Gaara, whatever you considered as "being" with Gaara, there was this one time that Neji could remember especially well. It was probably because it had been at sunrise. Gaara looked amazing at sunrise. It lent his red hair a few highlights of gold and almost made his eyes as pale as Neji's.

Gaara had kissed him. That might not seem so special to anyone outside the two of them. As a rule, Gaara didn't instigate a touch. He didn't want to be hurt. That was why it was special. That was why the feel of those lips against his own was so beautiful that it had practically killed him.

The red hair had felt cool against his hand when he had tugged Gaara down to smile coldly at him, playfulness dancing in his white eyes. The Sand ninja had raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to sit there, foreheads pressed together. It had felt perfect. Neji didn't have the slightest clue why, but being that close to Gaara felt perfect.

Then Gaara had pressed forward to kiss him and Neji knew what perfection was.

--

The most perfect time with Gaara (and not many times with Gaara were all that great) was in bed, after having sex. It was the one time that Gaara didn't really mind touching. It was basking in the afterglow that Neji was finally allowed to hold one red-headed ninja in his arms. Gaara let his head rest on Neji's chest. His eyes were half-lidded and warm, the black of the tanuki sand demon mark glowing against his pale skin. Neji's arm would be around his shoulders, his other hand spread over Gaara's flat stomach.

Gaara was warm against Neji's coldness. There was a certain way in how he tilted up his face to meet Neji's. He didn't touch, but he waited with his eyes dazed with pleasure and as sleepy as a dozing tiger's. It was beautiful. _Gaara_ was beautiful. He just didn't see it.

The touch was gentle, lasting for an unbearably long, sweet interlude. Breath hitched and shuddered. That one moment was the most incredible thing Neji had ever seen.

But Neji didn't love him. He didn't. They weren't friends. They weren't anything at all.

It was just the look in Gaara's eyes when he was alone, like a frightened child. It was just the way he kissed. It was the way that his skin felt. It was wanting to be at his side. It was wanting to see Gaara naked and yearning before him. It was wanting to see him with his face tilted upwards and his eyes soft.

It wasn't love. It couldn't be. Gaara had all the love he needed tattooed on his face.

But it might be something stronger than love, so it was fine.

--

a tanuki is a Japanese raccoon demon, like in Pom Poko. That's what Gaara's demon is, just in case you didn't know. Better safe than sorry

_I couldn't resist! It was just... so... cute. Review and tell me how cute/horrible/whatever this is. I really don't have the slightest clue. I haven't written fluff for-- omg, for _years.


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